Above and Below
by xashleyrose
Summary: After chasing Sherlock halfway across London because he had heard a strange noise, John is confronted by a peculiar man who wants to take him traveling through time and space. WHOLOCK ENSUES. Sherlock/John as well. Smut will come, too.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This is my first fanfiction, so any good advice you can give would be greatly appreciated. I love criticism. Even if you don't think it needs improving, I would still love to know your opinion.  
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><p><em>How often we forget all time, when lone<em>  
><em>Admiring Nature's universal throne;<em>  
><em>Her woods - her wilds - her mountains - the intense<em>  
><em>Reply of hers to our intelligence!<em>  
>-Byron, The Island<p>

"Sherlock," John gasped as he finally caught up to his flatmate, "What _is_ that noise?" The consulting detective had bolted at the sound of a strange "vworp" mere seconds before, and had left John standing bewildered in the middle of the London streets.

"An old friend," muttered Sherlock. "Well, I say friend…" His sentence trailed off as he turned his head in all directions, looking for something.

"Wait, I don't understan- Sher- Sherlock get back here!" Sherlock was once again running down the street, leaving John to once again run after him.

"Come on, John! We're losing him!" John still didn't understand, but he followed anyway. He had become used to strange events over the past few months of living with Sherlock, though to be honest this was slightly more odd than usual.

Sherlock finally stopped at what appeared to be an old-style blue police box, which admittedly did seem a little out of place in the middle of modern London. He walked around it numerous times, examining every inch with a smug grin scrawled across his face.

"Sherlock what on Earth is going on here?"

"No, no, no. Not Earth, John."

"The hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the Doctor!"

John stood there, staring at Sherlock. He had absolutely no idea what was going on. And, as normal of a affair his confusion might have been, he didn't like this.

"Sherlock who-"

John was cut off as the door to the police box opened. Out stepped a peculiar-looking man wearing a bow tie who had the look of a lost child on his face.

"London? I didn't mean to land in London," the man muttered. He snapped out of his daze as a grin formed across his face. "Ah well! Always time for a new adventure!"

The man hadn't even seemed to notice John or Sherlock, who were both standing on opposite sides of the blue box. Sherlock stepped up, smirking.

"Hello Doctor," he said coolly. The man jumped, eyes widening.

"Sherlock! What brings you here?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"Right, stupid question. Ignore that. Ignore me. The real question is this! How have you been my dear friend? Not been too bored, I hope?"

Sherlock laughed, which surprise John more than the mystery man and his police box put together. "No, Doctor. I've had plenty to keep me interested lately."

John looked at Sherlock sharply. That was an utter lie and he knew it. Lestrade had deliberately been giving then solved-in-four-hours-or-less cases since Moriarty and just last week Sherlock had dropped different cuts of meat from their flat as an "experiment" to keep him preoccupied. The only reason it wasn't human body parts falling from their window was that John had absolutely refused to let Sherlock do so when the idea was suggested.

"That so?" The Doctor asked skeptically. John was once again astonished. He had seen right through Sherlock's lie, which was unbelievably hard to do.

Sherlock smiled; he seemed to be doing a lot. "Alright," he said, almost playfully, "you've caught me."

"Not hard to do when someone gives you a look like that. Who's your friend, by the way? Not another one, is he?"

"Now Doctor, don't be rude," Sherlock snapped. "This is my _friend_, Dr. John Watson," Sherlock said, eyeing the Doctor.

"Another one?" John piped up, "What does he mean by another one?" He was genuinely confused, which had not been helped by the slight emphasis Sherlock had put on the word "friend". Normally John would have just reasoned that Sherlock was trying to impress the person to whom he was speaking and would just accept it; however, under no circumstance was this normal.

"Oh, never mind that," declared Sherlock, sill scrutinizing the Doctor.

The Doctor stayed locked on Sherlock's gaze for a little while longer and then slowly turned his head to John. "Right," was all he said.

"Anyways," continued the Doctor after a few seconds of tension, another grin forming on his face as he clapped and rubbed his hands together, "let's get this party started! Ehhrrr never saying that again.. John, I'm the Doctor. Very nice to meet you. I'm sure we'll get on just fine. Now, what's been happening on Earth lately? Even more importantly, what's today's date? I would hate so reveal anything to the great Sherlock Holmes and anyways-"

"Wait, wait, wait will somebody _please_ explain to me what is going on," John half-shouted as he rubbed his temple. He hadn't been this confused since first meeting Sherlock and his patience had been growing thinner as the Doctor's rambling had grown longer.

"Really John, are you that dense? I've practically deleted all the information I've ever known about the solar system and yet I still deduced that the Doctor wasn't from Earth the first time I met him," commented Sherlock, sounding rather annoyed.

John gaped at the two men that stood in front of him. He then drew his attention to the blue box, studying it briefly, and then back to Sherlock and the Doctor. John thought for a moment, a conclusion slowly coming to his mind.

"You're not seriously telling me that this man, this 'Doctor', is an alien? A real, live alien?" John scoffed. "Sherlock, if this is another one of your experiments I'm going to be incredibly upset with you."

"Would I do that to you, John?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes."

"Fair enough. But this isn't fiction. Feel his chest."

"Feel his what? Sherlock, I swear if you're pulling my leg-"

"He's not pulling your leg, Johnny boy," smiled the Doctor. "I'm sure a medical man such as yourself will appreciate this.. Here," the Doctor said as he pulled out a stethoscope, from where only God knew, "listen to my heartbeat."

John carefully took the stethoscope from the Doctor's hands. Maneuvering himself into a proper position to listen to the man's heart, he placed cold metal to his chest.

"_Bum-bum-bum-bum"_

"Two hearts! You have two hearts," breathed John. This was amazing. The being who stood before him, in the flesh, was an honest to God alien. John felt light-headed. "I need to sit down."

"It is a lot to take in," mused Sherlock. Then appeared another smirk, "Wait until he sees the inside of the TARDIS for the first time, eh Doctor?"

"You are enjoying this far too much," the Doctor observed.

"I'm sorry, but the what?" John asked crossly.

"Oh, the TARDIS? Well that's my ship, if you will," the Doctor said as he casually motioned to the blue police box.

"_That's_ your ship? A little small for a spaceship, don't you think?"

"Ah but that's the beauty of it," the Doctor smiled. "Come along, John. You're a strong man, you can handle this."

John stood up as the Doctor led him toward the TARDIS. Sherlock followed the two men as the Doctor walked to the box and opened the doors, urging John inside. Once John comprehended what he had just seen, his jaw dropped. He ran back to the outside of the TARDIS, walked around it a few times and surveyed the area for any sort of thing that could possibly help with forming an illusion of it being bigger on the inside. But not finding anything, he ran back in.

"It's.. It's bigger on.. on the inside," John stammered. He let out a pitiful half-laugh and buried his face into his hands. "One minute I'm debating on where to go out for lunch and the next I'm in a blue, 1960's police box that's bigger on the inside with a bloody space alien. That is _exactly_ the sort of thing that could _only_ happen when you're out with Sherlock bloody Holmes!" John was hysterical now, half-shouting and half-laughing.

"Er, Sherlock I think we've broken him," whispered the Doctor.

Sherlock's face skewed into something that resembled held-back worry. "John? John, are you alright?"

"Sherlock, who _is_ this man? And why are you so happy about him being here? You're never this happy..." His sentence trailed off as his seriousness faded into disappointment. John's heart wrenched as he realized just how much truth his words held.

His friend's piercing blue eyes bore into him. "Listen to me, John. This man is the Doctor and you're just going to have to trust me when I say that he is the most important man you will ever meet." John locked eyes with Sherlock, contemplating if he _could _actually trust him. After all, Sherlock had kept the secret that aliens existed from John, so what else was there? He was sure Sherlock noticed the flash of doubt in his face and shook his head, clearing those thoughts from his mind. If there was ever one man in the world that he could and would trust, it was Sherlock Holmes.

"I trust you," John said, and he meant it. A soft smile appeared on Sherlock's face, which was something that appeared to be happening much more often than usual.

"Tell me this then, Doctor," continued John, snapping his head toward the alien. "If I'm going to believe that all this crazy nonsense is happening, I want to know exactly what it is I'm to believe. Earlier you asked about the date and said something about not wanting to reveal anything. What did you mean by that?"

The Doctor's already overly childish grin grew, but before he could answer he was interrupted by Sherlock.

"Come now, John. Surely you've figured that one out by now?"

John thought for a second. He had an answer, but it seemed so absolutely absurd that he was embarrassed to say it out loud. He finally sighed, realizing that nothing could be more absurd than what had already happened and answered. "Time travel?"

"Very good, Johnny boy!" Proclaimed the Doctor, the look of a child opening a Christmas present for the first time sprawled across his face.

"Wait, you're serious?" John was dumbfounded. He knew he really shouldn't be by now, what with all that had happened in the past half-hour, but he just couldn't take that in.

"Yep. Time and Relative Dimension in Space," the Doctor said, tapping some odd contraption on what appeared to be a control panel. "Would you like to see for yourself?" Anticipation grew in the man's too-old eyes.

John's eyes grew wide. All of time and space, right there, offered to him like the last biscuit on the platter. His immediate response would have been yes, if not for all that had been happening recently. He mulled it over, glancing between both the Doctor and Sherlock. He paused as his eyes reached Sherlock, asking for an answer. Sherlock met his gaze and answered with a look of reassurance. If John was to trust Sherlock, this was the perfect moment to do so. He looked back at the Doctor, knowing his answer.

"I'll go," he said finally.

"Wonderful!" The Doctor's eyes sparkled as he ran back to the TARDIS door. "Go on then, get packing! How much you bring depends entirely on how long you want to stay."


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, I'd say chapter 1 has been pretty successful so far, so have some more! :D Once again, please review!**

**Also, slight angst ahead. Woo~**

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><p>Sherlock and John exited the TARDIS and left for 221B.<p>

"Well, what do you think?" Sherlock asked as they walked back to their flat.

"About what specifically?"

"Everything! Extraordinary, isn't it?"

"Of course it is, but you could give me a little warning next time, Sherlock!"

Sherlock shrugged, "I had no idea he would be here. He comes and goes as he pleases. Been ages since I'd seen him last, actually."

John grunted in displeasure. He should have been used to it by now, but John still didn't like being kept in the dark.

"While I'm thinking about it," John said after taking a few minutes to go over how much he had actually just learned, "Doctor who? Never mentioned a name, did he? And what kind of alien is he?"

"I've been trying to figure that one out for years, John. If I can't deduce what it is, no one can. But I can tell you that he's a Time Lord."

"A what? Sounds a bit pompous, don't you think?"

"Well he _does_ travel through time and space, John."

"So basically I've just recruited myself into traveling time and space with a nameless alien." It wasn't a question, but Sherlock answered anyway.

"I told you to trust me, John. Did I not?"

"Well, yeah, but why? What has this man done to gain your trust so easily?"

"Never said it was easy. Do refrain from making unsupported accusations. And as for why, that's something between the Doctor and me."

"I'm not going to blindly follow you everywhere, Sherlock. I want answers."

"Yes you will. You always will because you love it. You love the thrill of it. You'll get your answers in due time, John, but as for now we're almost home, and we really should decide how long we'll be staying with the Doctor."

John fidgeted awkwardly. He knew every word Sherlock had just said was completely true, and somehow having thrown in his face that Sherlock knew that much about him made him feel oddly uncomfortable.

As they reached their flat, they decided on nothing more than a one-night stay at whatever planet the Doctor decided to drag them to. Although John knew very well that it was a time machine, he didn't want to be gone for long. They spent the rest of their time at 221B packing in silence, which didn't take long considering how short of a trip they had chosen to take.

Walking back to the TARDIS, John continued to ask questions, most of which he didn't get a straight reply to. Then something hit him, almost making him laugh.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"How is it that you know an alien, yet you know absolutely nothing of the solar system?"

"I tend to delete anything unimportant that I learn from his visits, which is most of the information that I get on those rare occasions. I've told you this, John. The solar system is unrelated to my work."

"Then why did you get so excited when he showed up? If he's so unimportant, why do you find _him_ so stimulating?" John didn't mean for himself to sound so jealous, but even if he was a little surprised by his own words, he meant every bit of it.

Sherlock glanced at John, startled by his sudden outburst.

"Well, as you've seen for yourself, this man is quite the enigma. I enjoy the challenge, just as you enjoy the danger of it. He's not _boring_, unlike most humans, and he's just as observant as I am when he needs to be." Sherlock shrugged, "Also, none of that means that I can't appreciate the opportunity."

Once again John felt uncomfortable and slightly jealous, hearing Sherlock state something personal about him. Surely Sherlock didn't find John boring? He shook his head. Why was he even thinking things like that? And why did he feel that way?

_You very well know why,_ he heard the little voice in his head say. He crossed his arms and looked down. _Shut up,_ he told himself. _Just shut up. _He glanced at Sherlock, relief filling him as he saw that the detective seemed to be engrossed in his own thoughts.

They reached the TARDIS shortly after the outburst, both having walked the rest of the way lost in their own thoughts.

"Right-o," the Doctor shouted, jumping up from his seat as the two men walked back into the blue box. "Where to? Because I was thinking... There's an absolutely gorgeous planet only a couple million light-years from here. We could make it there in a tick!"

"Sounds good, Doctor," replied Sherlock, though John was sure he didn't actually know what he had just answered. Neither of the men had really been paying much attention, both still thinking.

"Good then," the Doctor smiled. "It's right next door to the Andromeda Galaxy, which is a wonderful view." The Doctor bounced around the controls, only half-way looking like he knew what he was doing. Again came the strange "vworp" noises and a slight lurch.

John's mind wandered as he realized that right then, at that moment, he was traveling through time and space. He was traveling millions of light-years, at what speed he didn't even want to guess, and leaving his entire past behind. He felt uneasy. Thrilled, yes, but also incredibly uneasy.

John walked around the inside of the ship and observed what he could about it. He stepped down some stairs, leaving Sherlock and the Doctor on the upper level of the control area. Finding a sofa, John sat down. He just needed to think.

Sherlock walked over to the Doctor. "What are you playing at?" His voice was low and his gaze pierced into the man who seemed to be flipping switches at random.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," the Doctor replied smugly.

"Oh don't give me that. You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about," Sherlock glanced in John's direction, making sure he was completely out of earshot.

"Sherlock, you know as well as I do that you go through them like you do cases."

"John's not one of _them, _Doctor. He's different from the rest," Sherlock hissed, his composure faltering.

The Doctor looked into Sherlock's eyes. "Yes. Yes, I can see that," he smiled, eyes shimmering, "I just had to make sure."

Sherlock mentally kicked himself. How could he have fallen for that? He just didn't understand...

The Doctor frowned. "Of course, I see something else now too."

The consulting detective's blue eyes met the Doctor's, glaring. _What does he know?,_ thought Sherlock.

"Oh Sherlock. As observant as you might be, you can be spectacularly ignorant sometimes."

Sherlock furrowed his brow, "You've not been reading John's ridiculous blog, have you?"

The Doctor laughed loudly and patted Sherlock on the shoulder, causing him to flinch at the contact. John heard the rather obnoxious laugh the Doctor had just made and looked up at the two men. His heart gave a little flutter of jealousy at seeing them both seem to enjoy themselves and he sighed.

_Why do I do this to myself,_ he thought. John ran his hand through his hair and slouched forward. _You knew what you were getting yourself into. 'Married to my work.' But you had to follow him like a bloody puppy, didn't you? _John squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. Every memory he had of Sherlock Holmes ever showing the slightest bit of emotion toward him flashed through his head. His heart lurched. With his face buried in his hands, mind miles from reality, John hadn't even noticed the Doctor standing beside him.

All while making some rather awkward hand gestures, the Doctor spoke up and asked, "Is everything alright down here?"

John jumped. "Fuck it all," he swore at the surprise. Regaining his composure, John sighed. "I'm sure you can very well tell that everything is not alright, Doctor." He glared.

"Why has everyone been glaring at me today? Really, is it my hair?" The Doctor ran his hand over his head.

"Just tell me why you're down here," sighed John.

The Doctor fidgeted for a second and then ran over to a pile of junk, fishing through it. "Oh I, uh, just needed to get one of... These! Yes, I needed this!" The Doctor pulled out what looked like half of a burnt rubber pipe. John stared at him blankly. "That was a rubbish excuse, wasn't it?"

"The worst."

"Right." The Doctor tossed the trash aside and threw himself down next to John. "Tell me what's on your mind, Johnny boy."

"Would you stop calling me that?" John snapped. He put his chin in his palm and mumbled, "And anyway, I wouldn't tell you even if it turned out you were Father Time himself or some other completely unbelievable nonsense that shouldn't be happening but is."

"I think you just did tell me."

"What? No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You're upset that what you've always perceived as reality isn't the complete truth, right?"

"Of course that's not why I'm upset! This is brilliant! It's just that Sher- Oh, you manipulative bastard! I'm not saying another word to you until we land."

The Doctor chuckled. "Caught in the act, I suppose," he stood up. "And that's fair enough. But John," he turned his head back toward him, "we landed three minutes ago."

John gaped at him. Had they really traveled that far that quickly?

"Now, would you tell me what's on your mind? Although, I've pretty much already guessed. Humans, you're so obvious. Always all after the same things..."

"And what sort of 'thing' am I after, Doctor?" Each word was hissed through John's teeth. He didn't like people prying into his life, especially when it came to something this personal.

The Doctor frowned and grabbed his suspender straps, one in each hand. "Don't be touchy, John. I'm only trying to help."

"Yeah, well, I can't _be_ helped," John crossed his arms and looked away, trying to hide the light blush that he was sure was forming across his face. He had already guessed that the Doctor knew exactly how he felt and he certainly didn't want to talk about it.

"Oh now don't sound so sure about that," the Doctor's frown transitioned into a broad smile with each word. "How much do you know about Sherlock's past.. 'experiences'?"

John knew his face was completely red by now. He looked down, tying to hide his obvious blush in vain.

"Don't give up hope just yet, Johnny boy."

"Doctor, I-" John whispered and looked up. The man was gone, leaving John to either mull over his thoughts or follow. He groaned. If there was one person in the world he didn't want to see him at that particular moment, it was Sherlock Holmes. Unfortunately, John was tired of the dark corner of the lower level he had chosen to sit in and his insides urged for adventure. He stood up and walked toward the stairs.

John walked in on the Doctor and Sherlock deep in discussion, which ended abruptly as he entered into the room. Paranoia flooded John as he imagined the Doctor telling Sherlock all that had just happened. He shuddered and his stomach jerked.

"John, are you alright? You look a little flustered," Sherlock said, which came as no surprise to John.

"Yeah. Fine. Where are we, by the way?" John was tyring his best to stay composed and to keep his lie believable, but his voice failed him. He sounded higher pitched than normal and slightly shaky. Sherlock frowned, obviously not happy with the answer he was given.

"A quaint little planet known as Messier Zeta, which is, interestingly enough, not even a Messier Object," the Doctor said quickly as to prevent Sherlock from inquiring any further. He locked eyes with John and smiled.

Walking to the TARDIS door, the Doctor continued to explain their location, "Messier Zeta was the first planet to be found by humans past the Andromeda Galaxy. Now it was quite obviously named after the French astronomer Charles Messier, but the interesting part is that Messier would have had no idea of this planet's existence-"

"Where does the 'Zeta' come from?" John asked, thankful for the Doctor getting them away from any uncomfortable topics.

"I'm getting to that," said the Doctor, waving his index finger in John's general direction. "'Zeta' is the sixth letter of the Greek alphabet, but it also can mean the sixth brightest star in a constellation and _that _was exactly what you lot as a species thought this planet was for centuries! Understandable, of course, seeing how this beautiful place gives off an almost golden glow under the right circumstances. Which, lucky enough, I think we're just in time to see!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry this is kind of a short chapter, but I promise it's worth it! ;D**

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><p>The Doctor grinned widely as he opened the TARDIS doors. A shot of amber light flooded the room, and John's mouth dropped. It was the most beautiful scenery he had ever seen. Silver, snow-topped mountains reflected the rays from a golden sun that's light seemed to almost shimmer. No, it <em>was<em> shimmering. There was something in the air, a dust of some sort, that reflected every stretch of light this planet's sun had to offer.

"The people of this planet call this the 'God Dust'," the Doctor said with a dreamy look on his face. "They used to believe that however prevalent the dust was that year would determine how well their crops would grow. They weren't completely wrong, of course! The dust is actually the pollen from plants that inhabit underground caverns stretching for millions of miles, all right under the surface of this planet. However, this specific pollen has the genetic capability to alter its DNA to make it compatible with any other vegetation! Perfectly harmless to humans and the like though, so you have absolutely nothing to worry about."

"Aptly named then, God Dust," Sherlock mused.

John couldn't help but look at Sherlock after his comment. The beautiful contrast of his bright blue eyes against the amber air caught in John's stomach, making him feel as if he had just swallowed a brick. His breathing slowed; what this man did to him was incredible. John couldn't look away, he couldn't stop studying this man's every feature. Even the God Dust seemed to be attracted to him, smoothly floating past and occasionally landing itself in Sherlock's hair, sticking there like glitter.

Sherlock glanced at John, meeting his gaze. John quickly looked away, embarrassed, and decided to stare into the mountains opposite of Sherlock. He mentally kicked himself. He couldn't allow himself any more screw ups on this trip, at least not any that were as painfully obvious as that one.

Frowning, Sherlock felt a hint of disappointment in his chest. He held in a sigh and looked back on the horizon. It really was a beautiful planet, and quite the anomaly. The air sparkled, God Dust lazily gliding along.

"Amazing, isn't it?" The Doctor asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Gorgeous."

"Beautiful."

Both men had replied to the Doctor's question, but each of their answers held varying meanings.

The Time Lord smiled and clapped his hands together. "Well then, let's get started! You're going to love the people here. So hospitable, and they can cook a lovely meal. You just _have _to try the curry."

Sherlock and John followed the Doctor down the side of the mountain to what looked like an incredibly large cabin. "Finest place to stay on this planet.," he grinned.

"Um, Doctor, we didn't bring any money," said John, worry obvious in his voice.

"Oh that's quite alright. I'm sure we won't have to worry about it. The owner owes me a favor, and a couple rooms and a meal should suffice as payment."

The Doctor knocked on the door and a tall, thin man with rather ferret-like features came out.

"Doctor! What- How- Come on in, it's been far too long, my friend!" The ferret-man embraced the Doctor and motioned them to come inside. "Who're your friends? More companions?"

The Doctor laughed, "No, no. These two are just some more friends of mine. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson."

"Nice to meet you," John said politely and smiled.

Sherlock nodded and gave a slight smile, but his eyes were flickering everywhere, observing.

The ferret-man smiled and shook both their hands. "I'm I'sulan and this is the Ser'tor'eus Resort. Feel free to secure yourself to any accommodations you might need, free of charge; any friends of the Doctor are friends of mine, and my friends always deserve the best treatment."

"Thank you very much, I'sulan," the Doctor patted the man on the shoulder, a childish grin taking up much of the space on his face.

The three men spent much of the next few hours either touring the resort or relaxing. Since he had already visited the place multiple times before, the Doctor only stayed with Sherlock and John through part of their tour and returned to the indoor pool area right after leaving them. The walk-through ended at a balcony near the top floor and the guide departed, leaving Sherlock, John, and the few other guests who had decided to stay to enjoy the view.

John walked over to the edge of the balcony and leaned on the railing, taking in all that he saw. The silver mountains still glimmered as they reflected the light from the God Dust, which had gained more of an orange quality then from the setting sun. Sherlock walked over to his side. John was sure that even Sherlock's stubborn need for _only _relevant information was swayed by the magnificent scenery. John looked down, studying the patterns made on the cliff-sides. His heart wrenched. Numerous thoughts flashed through his mind. At that moment he wanted nothing more but to grab Sherlock- to touch him. To run his hand down his chest, to trace the "z" shaped shadow that his cheekbones formed with his fingers, to feel that Cupid's bow against his skin...

Squeezing his eyes shut, John shivered and shook his head, trying to dispel those those thoughts from his mind. He couldn't risk thinking like that, at least not in public.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked, completely breaking John's concentration.

"Just cold," he replied quickly. The last thing he wanted was for Sherlock to-

John's train of thought crashed as he felt a pair of slim arms wrap around him. "Sh- Sherlock?" John stuttered, blinking repeatedly.

Sherlock pressed his lips onto the top of John's head, breathing in deeply through his nose to take in his scent. "Mmmhhhh," was the only reply Sherlock made to John's inquiry.

"Sherlock.. what..?" John's voice cracked.

"You said you were cold," responded Sherlock, his eyes closed and still breathing in heavily. He tightened his grip around John.

John's heart was pounding and it was hard for him to breathe. He couldn't think properly. After a few moments he broke the silence with the only question he saw fit. "Why?"

"Observe, John," Sherlock murmured into his ear, letting his lips trace the lobe and then lightly trail down his neck before finally kissing him softly and sucking at his throat.

John shuddered, his breath catching. He subconsciously raised his hand to take hold of Sherlock's head, pushing the detective's lips harder down. He could feel Sherlock smile into his neck; lips moving slowly, his breath tingling John's flesh.

John let out a soft moan. This was everything he wanted, and more.

"Sherlock..." John slowly turned around, looking Sherlock in the eyes. "Sherlock why now?"

Sherlock's eyes locked with John's. "Because, John, you are important to me."

John was shocked. Coming from Sherlock Holmes, that was quite the sentiment, and John knew it. He blinked and looked down, tightening his grip on Sherlock.

Face buried in Sherlock's chest, John inhaled. He smelled exactly how John had always imagined (musty, sweet, and dangerous), which sent the images of all that he wanted to do to Sherlock through his head again. John looked up, eyes flickering to Sherlock's lips. One of his hands trailed up the man's chest toward his cheekbone and slowly John moved in closer, sealing the gap between them. Their lips met and his hand caressed Sherlock's features simultaneously, their grasp on one another never loosening.

"Ahem..."


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh god, I'm so sorry for the delay D: School has been killing both my editor and me and just one is relatively long, so maybe it can make up for my absence...?  
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**Well, nonetheless, here's a short recap in case you've forgotten what's happened: The Doctor just walked in on Sherlock and John locking lips.**

**Without further adieu, I give you chapter 4!  
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><p>Both Sherlock and John froze at the sound.<p>

"Well.. I see my work here is done," the Doctor chimed, familiar childish grin once again on his face. John was beginning to hate that grin.

"Bastard.." John muttered, too low for anyone to actually hear, and looked down.

Sherlock took a step back, much to John's dismay, but didn't let go. "You did nothing here, Doctor."

"Of course I did! Really, do you two actually think any of this would have happened if I hadn't shown up?" The Doctor grinned triumphantly. Sherlock and John glanced at each other, realizing immediately they both knew the Doctor was right, though to the exact extent neither of them knew.

"So, what? You just decided you would randomly show up one day to interfere with our lives?" John wasn't sure if he was actually angry or not, but he did know that he wasn't happy with the Doctor at that moment. Once again this man was digging into something too personal.

"Would you be complaining if I said 'yes'? And anyway, it wasn't random. There are these things called fixed points in time.." He trailed off and crossed his arms, an apologetic smile replacing his grin.

John sighed. He really wasn't complaining; he loved this. He only wished it had happened without the aid of a third party.

Sherlock moved slightly, looking at John - studying him. He frowned.

"John, look at me."

He obeyed.

"John, listen. This would have happened, whether the Doctor had shown up or not."

John blinked. He hadn't heard Sherlock sound this worried since that night with Moriarty. Was Sherlock afraid he would stop anything between them from happening simply because they had a little help? John thought for a moment, confused why Sherlock would ever think something like that. He then realized that his disappointment of the Doctor was probably incredibly evident on his face.

John almost laughed, causing Sherlock to raise an eyebrow.

"Sherlock.." He shook his head. "Whatever happened with.. that," he motioned his hand toward the Doctor, "I don't care. All I care about is this." John brought his hand back in between them and swirled it a bit.

Sherlock's features softened, but he still didn't look completely convinced. John took this as an invitation, and kissed him. Sherlock smiled.

"Well if you two are finished.. I'sulan's just told me our meal is ready," and with that the Doctor left, making quiet, fake, gagging-noises.

"If he didn't want to see us, he didn't have to come," John mumbled as he broke their kiss.

Sherlock chuckled and held John tighter.

"We'd better go," Sherlock said after a few moments, the resentment heavy in his voice.

"Yeah, we just _have _to try the curry," John laughed as they walked away from the edge of the balcony, leaving the mountains behind them.

Arriving at the dining hall, the Doctor showed them to their table.

"You'll love the food here," he said, trying to fold a napkin properly but giving up after a few tries and throwing it aside.

Realizing he hadn't eaten for hours, John licked his lips. "Good, I could definitely go for something filling."

"Mmm, I might actually eat something," said Sherlock, studying the menu. "Could be interesting."

John eyed him. It would be one of the few times he had actually seen him eat in public. The day was just full of new things.

Sherlock caught John's eye, and John smiled. He didn't look away like before, but instead he grabbed Sherlock's hand under the table. It seemed incredibly childish to John, but he didn't care. All he cared about was Sherlock.

Accompanied by I'sulan himself, their food arrived shortly after ordering. "I had my best chefs prepare this," I'sulan grinned and patted the Doctor on the back.

"Marvelous! Give my compliments to Rosechk and the gang, would you? And tell them 'hello' as well. Certainly has been a while," the Doctor chimed.

"I'm sure they'll be delighted to hear it, Doctor," I'sulan smiled, leaving shortly after.

"So Doctor, what exactly did you do for them?" John asked.

"Hm? Oh, right," the Doctor said, snapping into conversation. "Long story really, but basically I saved I'sulan's entire business. See, the plants that spore the God Dust rather liked this side of the mountain - or at least under it - but it was causing terrible troubles with cave-ins.. So I, uh, had to go and reason with them."

"You reasoned with plants?" Sherlock looked at him, criticism in his eyes.

"Oh come now, Sherlock, does that really surprise you?"

"Objectively, yes," Sherlock smirked, "but coming from you I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"Wait, so how exactly did you reason with _plants_?" John asked skeptically.

"Well, remember how I said their pollen had the capability to change its genetic code? Right, well the plants can too and they've taken a rather liking to _human_ DNA. And let me tell you, they're just as stubborn as most humans now as well-" the Doctor cut himself off. "Erm, yes, never mind that last bit. Been a while since I've actually traveled with someone..."

John laughed. As much of an insult as that should have been, he couldn't help but think of Sherlock in all his headstrong glory. John squeezed Sherlock's hand. He had never been happier.

The rest of their meal went smoothly and they were soon ready to take I'sulan up on his offer for free accommodations.

"Will we only be needing two rooms, then," the Doctor asked, winking at Sherlock and John.

John blushed. He honestly hadn't thought of that until now and he didn't know how to answer. John looked at Sherlock. He wanted nothing more but to never leave that man's side, but he also didn't want anything unexpected to happen too quickly.

"Well?" Sherlock asked, looking at John.

John bit his lip. Sherlock was letting him choose. Everything their relationship could be was riding on his head, and he couldn't decide. Looking at Sherlock, he sighed.

"You choose."

"Are you sure, John?" Sherlock looked at him quizzically.

John glared into Sherlock's eyes, no matter how much they pierced into him. "Yes, I'm bloody sure. Now choose."

Sherlock put his arm around John's waist and smirked. "We'll just take the one room, then."

John snapped his head up and looked at Sherlock.

"I'll just be off to get our rooms then," said the Doctor, who had been averting his gaze throughout their entire conversation. He turned and started walking.

John's stomach quivered. He had been secretly hoping for this, as much as he might deny that to himself. It might have been a little early for them to be sharing a room to be classified as "decent", but who really cared about decent?

"Is... that alright?" Sherlock asked, looking at John.

It was, of course, definitely alright, but John didn't know how to answer properly without making himself seem desperate.

"Yes, that's alright Sherlock," John said finally, smiling.

The Doctor returned shortly after to walk into Sherlock and John in a mild kiss. He smiled. _Always meant to be, those two were. The perfect fixed point._

The kiss broke and the two men looked at the Doctor, each still in each others grasps.

"I have our room keys," said the Doctor, jingling the metal in front of him.

"Excellent," Sherlock said, breaking John's hold and walking toward the Doctor, grabbing a key from his hand. "Where to?"

"Just this way," the Doctor said, raising his hand and pointing behind him.

John could feel the excitement growing in him. Something about the way Sherlock had said "excellent" filled him with exhilaration. He really didn't want to move things too quickly, but he also couldn't keep his mind from wondering. And oh God how he wanted to do so many things to Sherlock. Images of running his tongue along Sherlock's cheekbone, pulling at those beautiful curls, tasting his flesh, and various other inappropriate things came to his mind. He shivered and grabbed Sherlock's hand as they walked.

Upon arriving to their room, they bid the Doctor good night. John opened their door and walked in, which was followed by an immediate appreciation for how beautiful their room was. John's admiration of the hotel grew exponentially. On a normal day, there would have been no way he could have afforded something like this, but that day was far from normal.

Sherlock closed the door and turned to look at John.

"Lovely room," John commented.

Sherlock lazily skimmed the room with his eyes and looked back at John. "Quite, but that's unimportant at the moment..." He trailed off and began to walk toward John, outstretching his arms as he got closer. Sherlock reached his hands toward John's face and cupped his jaw, looking him in the eye. He was studying him.

John met Sherlock's eyes and raised his arms around the consulting detective's neck. A hint of shock flickered across Sherlock's face, but only for a brief moment. John smirked and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything he felt a pair of lips crash into his.

Sherlock took advantage of his slightly parted lips and slipped his tongue inside John's mouth, taking in every detail he could of it.

John could feel the heat rising between them. He wanted desperately to continue, but he had to stop whatever was happening. It was just too fast.

"Sherlock.." John breathed as they parted lips. "Sherlock, we need to slow down."

Sherlock was skimming his lips across John's neck. He paused. "I'm afraid I don't see your reasoning," Sherlock murmured.

John moaned lightly as he felt Sherlock's deep, jaguar-like voice vibrate on his skin.

_No. I can't.. We need to stop.. _John wasn't exactly sure if he had spoken the words out loud or only thought them, but his body tensed and he pushed at Sherlock's chest lightly.

Sherlock stopped, a frown forming on the lips that were pressed against John's neck. He raised his head and pressed his brow to John's. "I still don't understand why."

"Because, Sherlock, there are still so many things I still don't know," John frowned. "And," he added, "so many things have happened today. It's hard enough to take it all in at once without the added bonus of.. this," he swirled his hand in between them.

Sherlock looked at John. "What do you not know?" he asked.

John bit his lip and thought back. "Earlier, when I first met the Doctor, he asked if I was 'another one'. What did he mean by that?"

Sherlock scowled but didn't say anything.

"Sherlock, I want to know the truth."

Sherlock sighed. "Why can't it just be obvious to you, John?"

"Because I'm not you."

"Fine. John, when I first met the Doctor, and I mean _really_ met him, it was back in my... Experimental days."

Confusion grew on John's face.

"Experimental.. with many things," Sherlock said slowly. He looked almost ashamed.

John wrapped his arms around him. "Sherlock, whatever it was, you can tell me."

Sherlock's eyes pierced into him. "You won't like what you hear."

"Sherlock, it's fine. It's all fine."

Sherlock groaned. "Oh, why does it even matter?"

"Because I want to know." John didn't mean to sound so self-absorbed with his answer, but it seemed to do the trick because Sherlock sighed and looked down, mouth opening to speak.

"I first really met the Doctor when I was in uni," he paused, "and when I was a different man from the one you know. John, there are reasons Lestrade used a drugs bust as an excuse to search our flat." His eyes were now boring into John's, but he didn't look away. Sherlock continued, "I would experiment with a number of things. Drugs, alcohol.. sex." Sherlock closed his eyes at the last word before John could do anything.

If there was one thing John did not expect Sherlock to say, it was that he had once been experimental with sex. Suddenly he felt a twinge of jealousy. The thought of Sherlock with anyone else sent his stomach churning and John slipped his arms around his waist, reassuring himself that Sherlock was now his.

But John also felt something else. Sadness. Sadness that there was something that had driven Sherlock to abuse himself like that.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"Why?"

Sherlock paused. "I was bored," he said simply.

"You're always bored, Sherlock," John said, unconvinced.

"Not like that.." Sherlock said softly. "What's the point of anything if you have no stimulation in your life? Everything was so.. Dull. The drugs, the alcohol, the sex; they were nothing but stimulants."

John could feel his heart wrench.

"The Doctor stopped my self-destructive tendencies, John, and that's why I trust him. He showed me that the world wasn't completely _boring._"

"So, when he said 'another one', he was genuinely concerned you had gone back?"

Sherlock shrugged, "It would seem that way."

John felt all previous contempt for the Doctor melt away. He had saved Sherlock, _his_ Sherlock. John looked into Sherlock's eyes, needing the comfort of their glorious blue.

"I'm glad he did," said John, leaning in to kiss Sherlock.

Smiling, Sherlock leaned further into John's kiss. John's acceptance sent feelings through Sherlock that he wasn't used to, and he enjoyed them.

They spent the rest of the night locked in each other's embrace, just enjoying the comfort they received from one another.


	5. Chapter 5

**So it's been a while since I updated... A long, long while... To make up for it, have some smut!**

* * *

><p>Sherlock woke first that morning. He rolled onto his side, watching John. He still couldn't believe that there was a human being out there who could make him feel the way he did. He didn't even know it was possible for him <em>to<em> feel like he did. What he experienced back in his experimental days was nothing more than lust, if that. What he got from it was simply a quick release of pleasure to distract him from the dull patterns of everyday life.

He studied John. His breathing patterns while he slept, the way his lip would twitch every so often, his tired moans... And when he had gotten all of John's movement's memorized, Sherlock started to observe John's other physical characteristics. Most of which he had already stored away in his mind (his hair color, facial features, etc.) but with this being the only actual time Sherlock had seen John still resting after an entire night's sleep, he took in any new information he could.

John began to stir halfway through Sherlock analyzing exactly how his hair fell after rest, and his eyes opened wide to the sight of Sherlock leaning above him, playing with his hairs. John smiled, and his expression softened. Sherlock really didn't know anything of personal space, but John wasn't going to let that bother him this morning.

"Good morning," John said after rubbing his eyes and letting out a tired sigh.

"Good m-"

Sherlock was cut off by John giving him a quick kiss, and then standing up to stretch.

"-orning," Sherlock finished.

"Just needed to make sure that last night actually happened," John chuckled, turning around to look at the man who he had just shared a bed with.

Sherlock smirked and stood up. He walked to John and kissed him, passionately; which was not good for the early morning.

Their kiss heated, and so did their bodies and desires. Sherlock started to slowly push John, and he obeyed, backing into the wall.

Each breath of their's came in shorter, less steady, and heavier pants. Moans were becoming more frequent and each man could feel the other hard against him.

With Sherlock's hips grinding into his, John was far beyond the point of being able to conjure any rational thoughts. He knew that somewhere, deep inside his conscience, there was a voice screaming that they were probably moving too fast, but God he didn't care. He moaned, loudly this time.

Sherlock let out an involuntary gasp. As exhilarating as this was, his mind was still working relatively normally; or at least normal enough to think, which apparently made everything even more arousing. The ability to not only see, but to learn exactly how John reacted to his every touch was more stimulating than any drug he had ever taken.

Unfortunately, Sherlock was also in enough control of his mind to remember that John probably didn't want to move too quickly. He stopped and backed up slightly, despite his body aching for him to continue. John let out a whimper and tried to pull Sherlock back in, but before he was successful, Sherlock spoke.

"John- Listen to me, John."

John lifted his eyelids slightly. His eyes were foggy and his pupils, dilated.

"John," Sherlock said, "I need you to focus."

"That's bloody hard to do, you fucking tease," John groaned.

"You need to tell me if you _really_ want to continue," Sherlock said bluntly.

John blinked. He had almost forgotten there was even a part of him that _didn't_ want to continue. His body ached and yearned for contact so much already, and he could still hardly breathe normally.

He moaned, but not from pleasure. He didn't know what he wanted to do, and it was bloody infuriating. His body craved more: more contact, more stimulation, more Sherlock. But his mind was unsure.

John looked up, trying to decide on his answer. The blue of Sherlock's eyes were almost completely taken over by the black of his pupils, and his cheeks were slightly pink. He looked almost like an animal. John's insides quivered and with that he lost all control. He grabbed Sherlock and pulled him in, roughly. He chose to give into desire. What was left of the rational part of John's mind was telling him that even if he had tried to stop, he would have had to take care of himself one way or another. So why not please both of them while he was at it? However, even those thoughts soon became foggy as he felt Sherlock lower himself. Kissing down John's stomach and removing John's shorts. Sherlock closed his lips around John.

John let out a groan and grabbed Sherlock's hair, tugging and pulling at it. Not to try and control him (as that would have been impossible) but just to match his movements. He rolled his hips, beckoning for Sherlock to take him in further. Sherlock grabbed John and obliged.

"Sherlock," he moaned.

Sherlock swirled his tongue around John, causing him to moan even louder still. He was already close to coming and he knew it. John was never one to last long with morning wood, and despite the complete and total pleasure he felt with Sherlock's lips and tongue sucking and swirling around his cock, he was a little embarrassed. _Fuck,_ he thought. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ It seemed the only coherent thought he could create. Anything else just came out in half-gasps, half-gibberish.

"_Fuck,_" John said, aloud this time. It rolled off of his tongue easily, despite the sheer difficulty he had in even just thinking the simplest words. "_Fuck me_," he cried out, not caring that it wasn't the perfect terminology to describe their situation. All he cared about was Sherlock. Sherlock licking him, sucking him, and now only focusing on his head.

"Oh fu- S- Sherlock..." John panted, trying to warn him. But just his name leaving John's lips caused him to go over the edge.

John's knees were giving and he grabbed at the consulting detective's hair even harder for leverage. Accidentally pushing Sherlock's head harder down on him, he unintentionally bucked his hips and let out a wet gasp.

Sherlock let out a moan this time. Still studying John's reactions, he had never been more aroused. Everything John did brought Sherlock himself closer to the edge. Everything John _was _brought him closer. The way he felt, the way he moved, the way he tasted, the way he ravenously tugged at his hair like he was trying to control him... He let out another pitiful moan. The thought of being controlled by John, being told what to do, where to go, sent his thoughts faltering. Everything he ever thought about his personality was changing in this one moment. He wanted to be _dominated._

John drove his hips forward again, losing all control of his actions. Sherlock's deep moans into him had sent him positively reeling. John cried out, what exactly he couldn't remember, but it felt incredible.

John's moans and gasps slowly subsided into shallow breaths and once he was able to think properly again he realized his only regret was waiting. "You're bloody incredible," he breathed, a slight chuckle erupting from deep within, "and apparently a swallower."

"You're bloody beautiful," Sherlock groaned with his eyes closed with one hand wiping John's excess from his smirking lips and the other lowering to give him the release his body had been desperately craving.

"Let me," John said seductively, slowly moving closer to Sherlock, kissing at his hipbones and moving lower, his hands exploring the rest of Sherlock's body.

Sherlock had no complaints.


End file.
